Scratchings on the Aviary
by SamCyberCat
Summary: An archive for one-shot fics I've created based around various Layton RPs from tumblr. Many of which will be about the Black Ravens.
1. Crow & Roddy

**Notes:** A ficlet created to fill a gap in an on-going RP with Spectrumv, focused on Crow talking about his relationship with Badger to Roddy. Set a few years post-PL3, when the Black Ravens are teenagers. Possibly the first of a series of these, depending on if and when more are needed. I've decided to upload them here to archive them, so that they don't get lost in the depths of tumblr. Each chapter will be loosely connected in that they're set in the same series of RPs, but might wildly differ outside of that. And unfortunately I can't promise that they'll make much sense to read without the context of the RPs themselves, but those can be found linked to my tumblr account, if anyone's interested in reading them.

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><p>Crow is less nervous about this than he probably should be.<p>

Despite the fact that the others finding out about him and Badger has always been an almost terrifying prospect. Neither of them know how the rest of the Black Ravens will take it and what happened with Socket is proof enough that not everyone's going to be fine about the matter. But now that three, no, four of the others know (he's just going to assume that Marilyn's been wise to them all along at this point) there's not getting out of telling everyone.

Out of the three remaining Black Ravens, Crow is worried the least about telling Roddy, which is what he intends to do today. It's funny, because to most people the standoffish, grumpy Roddy would probably seem like the most difficult to tell your innermost secrets to, but to Crow that's far from the case. Him and Roddy have been close friends as far back as Crow can remember, their friendship even spanning before the Black Ravens were formed, during the years where Crow was mostly a loner. In times of need, Roddy's always been the person Crow can rely first and foremost, even if each bruise is bandaged with the mutter of "What a pain..."

With that in mind, Crow feels guilty that he's kept this from Roddy for so long and that his closest friend isn't the first to know.

He doesn't feel bad about hiding the relationship in itself, because Badger had (actually, has) been so scared of the prospect of losing the others if they take this the wrong way. Which is of course something that also worries Crow, but by comparison Crow has a much easier time shrugging off the hatred of others. Badger's never had any friends before the Black Ravens and his low self-esteem leaves him clinging to them tightly. When Badger told Crow that he'd feel better if the others didn't know to start with, Crow didn't hesitate to respect those wishes.

But then Gus figured them out on his own, Louis and Socket walked in on them and Marilyn's known all along anyway. There's no hiding it now. Especially given that Louis and Socket have two of the loudest mouths in Misthallery. So Badger and Crow talked about it, agreeing that it would be best for Crow to tell Roddy on his own.

Which leads Crow to where he is today, standing outside of Roddy's house. He raises his hand to knock, but is cut off by a call from around the side of the house.

"You're wasting your time, I'm out here. Don't bother Mum."

Crow peers around the corner to find Roddy hanging out the morning washing on the line. He shouldn't be surprised, given that a lot of Roddy's routine is based on doing family chores.

"Mornin', Rod. Not interruptin' anythin', am I?" enquires Crow.

"Even if you were that wouldn't stop you. Never has done before," Roddy points out.

Crow rolls his eyes; "Fair enough. Well, if I can get a moment o' ya time, I've got... somethin' important to tell ya."

"I'm listening," prompts Roddy, not moving away from his task.

"It's sorta private," Crow presses.

With a heavy sigh, Roddy grabs a pile of laundry from the basket, marches over and shoves it into Crow's arms; "Then help me get this done if you want me to be finished quicker."

There's no objections there and Crow makes to join him in hanging the washing on the line. The task takes a good five minutes or so and all the while Roddy keeps shooting Crow quizzical looks. From that, Crow can only assume that he must be radiating his eagerness to talk about this. Not that it stops Roddy from leaving his task until he deems it complete.

"Guess I've got a bit of time before cleaning the house. The dust ain't going anywhere," Roddy grumbles, as the two of them walk across the yard, "So tell me what it is you came here to talk about."

And that's when Crow hesitates. He's been confident enough all the time he's been thinking about doing this, but being put on the spot is enough to pull the rug out from underneath him. How can he even begin to explain everything that's happened these past few months...?

"It's about Badge'," starts Crow, feeling that this is the most honest place to begin.

"Oh? Is old Badger finally starting to feel better? I know he's been staying at your house after whatever happened with his dad, but I've barely seen him since then," replies Roddy, his face looking a bit more concerned than usual. The shift is hard to spot to the untrained eye, but Crow's known Roddy long enough to see it.

"He's doin' much bettah, yeah. Got out an' about a bit the othah day an' I'd say the worst o' the damage 'as 'ealed up now," confirms Crow, "But that ain't what I came 'ere to talk about."

"Go on then," Roddy prompts.

This is it. There's no beating around the bush now, not even for an expert at twisting words like Crow. He has to tell Roddy.

"Badge' an' me... we're..."

He can't do it. His throat dries up and the words can't make their way through. There's so much to say, but no way to say it seems good enough to Crow. Because what if Roddy does hate him? What if he thinks Crow is a proper... proper... whatever you call people like Crow and doesn't want to be near him any more? This must be how Badger's felt about the others finding out all along.

But then he forces himself to think of Louis and how he'd not been even a little bit bothered about the whole thing. Surprised, yes certainly, but not bothered. Louis had managed to reassure Badger that this isn't going to change anything and they'll still be friends, albeit probably with Louis asking a few inappropriate questions. But that's nothing unusual either.

Roddy isn't Louis, but surely he'll be just as mature, if not more so.

"You gonna finish that sentence? Not like you to stumble on words," Roddy checks, cutting into Crow's line of thought.

A nod. Crow knows that he needs to cross the bridge to deal with whatever's on the other side.

"...Badge' an' me, we're... well, we're goin' out. Inna... inna propah gay way. We 'ave been since that trip we took to London, but Badge' was nervous about anyone findin' out, so we swore to keep it a secret. Only we can't any more an' I wanted to tell ya 'cause... well, 'cause I wanted to all along anyway. I 'ate 'idin' things from ya, Roddy, but this was important to Badgah."

That's it. He's done it now.

Braving a look at Roddy, Crow is faced with a moment of stunned silence that swiftly morphs into an indifferent shrug.

"Is that it?" Roddy dismisses.

"What do ya mean 'is that it'? Don't act as if this is somethin' ya knew all along. It's surprisin' stuff, this!" proclaims Crow, feeling indignant that his big reveal didn't get more of a reaction.

"You honestly expect me to be surprised to find out you're gay? Come off it, Crowlo. I've known you since you were in nappies," Roddy laughs, clearly entertained by Crow's annoyance. Some things never change.

"When ya put it like that..." Crow mumbles, looking down at the ground.

Guessing that Crow needs more than this, Roddy goes on; "Look, if you came here all worried about how I was gonna react, then you can stop right now. Because I don't care. You've been a pain all your life and you're going to continue to be a pain, whether you're kissing Badger or anyone else. So stop acting like this is a big deal."

"Socket thought it was a big deal," Crow weakly argues.

"Well Socket is young, isn't he? But he's growing up just like the rest of us, so he's going to have to start learning at some point. We can't baby him forever," assures Roddy, "If anything, I'm more offended that you told Socket before me."

"I didn't... him an' Louis walked in on us..." confessed Crow, face turning an uncharacteristic shade of pink.

Roddy roars with laughter, which does nothing to help Crow's embarrassment.

"You got caught by Socks and Lozza? You couldn't have asked for a worse combination if you tried! All of Misthallery will know by sundown!" he chuckles.

"I wanted to tell ya myself, before ya 'eard through the gossip," Crow presses.

This is enough to quell Roddy's laughter. He walks over and puts a hand on Crow's shoulder, causing him to almost buckle under the force of it. But at the same time Crow feels comforted by the motion. Roddy's small gestures of affection tend to do that – the fact that they're so rare just makes them more meaningful.

"And I'm glad that you did. But don't worry, my lips are sealed unless you say otherwise. It ain't my business what you and Badger get up to at the end of the day," Roddy promises.

"Nah, tell anyone of the Black Ravens if ya want. It's only Wren an' Scraps who don't know now. Socket will tell Wren, if 'e 'asn't already, an' Scraps won't care, will 'e?" Crow points out. They all know that Scraps isn't bothered about this kind of thing, just as long as he can get his work done, the romances of others aren't a problem to him. And Crow feels glad that he's the way he is. All the same, he continues to say, "I would appreciate it if ya don't tell anyone else, though. I still dunno 'ow Badge' would feel about that. Even Mum doesn't know, for that mattah..."

Roddy gives him an oddly affectionate smile.

"Like I said before, I've known you since you were an even tinier thing than you are now and your mum's known you longer than that even," he reminds.

"I wish I 'ad ya confidence," sighs Crow, "But never mind that for now. What will be will be or so they say, eh?"

"Not like you to get so poetic," grumbles Roddy, finally shifting the hand off Crow's shoulder and letting his face return to its usual frown, "But anyway, I've got work to be getting on with and the longer I yap to you the further behind I get with it. So run along back to Badger, little birdie."

"Fine, I'm goin'. But... well, I don't wanna get all mushy or anythin', but... thanks, Rod. For bein' so undahstandin'. Ya the best mate I could ask for," whispers Crow, still feeling a touch of lingering embarrassment.

"Be off with you!" concludes Roddy, making a shooing motion in Crow's direction.

Not needing to be told a third time, Crow turns to make his way back home, chuckling a little as he goes. It's a nervous chuckle though, which is more than apparent to Roddy. Crow has a laugh for every occasion, it's one of his little habits.

And despite claiming that he needs to get back to work, Roddy watches Crow go until he's out of sight. Which doesn't take long on the packed streets of the market. A simply turn of a corner and Crow's gone, probably lost in a wave of thoughts about problems that need to be solved. That would be just like their leader.

He sighs to himself, which is equally as usual for Roddy as Crow's little laughs are to Crow. Grunting and sighing pretty much sum up how Roddy expresses himself a lot of the time. It's working out what each one means that's the trick to understanding him. And if Crow was still there, he'd be able to tell that this sigh is a content sigh, with a hint of weariness and an edge of something else. Something even Crow couldn't figure out.

But that's not important now, at least not to Roddy. Because at the end of the day, Crow is Crow to him and, as much as he made out to him that this is all okay, Roddy knows that he's going to need even more protecting from now on.

Because the last thing Roddy ever, ever wants is for anything to hurt Crow...


	2. Charlie & Crow

**Notes:** A ficlet created to fill a gap in an on-going RP with Spectrumv, answering the question of why Charlie has a problem with Crow. Set a few years pre-PL4.

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><p>Thinking back, Charlie had to admit that his involvement with Crow pre-dated meeting the boy properly for the first time. It went back to that one evening that would remain in the minds of those involved for years to come.<p>

Of course, even before that day Charlie had been aware of the loner kid who kept to himself. Everyone thought was oh-so-cool, even if he didn't have any friends. Charlie could relate in that he also spent much of his time by himself. The difference being that nobody thought he was cool at all.

On that evening, Charlie had been by himself, up in his room. He was reading various annuals that his Gran had sent him. There were Beanos, Dandys and Twinkles. He poured through them all for hours, completely content in absorbing the comic strips that each volume contained.

He was distracted enough by this that it took a while for the noise from outside to reach him and at first he even ignored it. But after a few minutes of the raised voices not going away, he decided that it might be worth checking out what was going on.

Charlie walked over to his bedroom window, pulling himself up onto his desk so he could see outside. It seemed a crowd of people had already gathered, meaning it took him a while to locate the centre of the commotion. When he did find it, he recognised the two people as being young Thomas's parents. They were screaming quite frantically at each other. Looking back on it these days, Charlie can't recall if when he was watching them that he couldn't make out what they were say or if so much time has past that he's simply forgotten their words, whether he could hear them or not. But that wasn't what was important. The important part was that there was a scene being caused and people were watching.

A few minutes went by with Charlie continuing to observe along with the crowd, not particularly invested in what was happening, but also not wanting to miss out on what so many others seemed to deem worth watching. He didn't make a move until he saw a couple of police officers – the local Chippe boys – make an appearance. Police are much more interesting than shouting adults, Charlie felt.

With that he jumped down from the desk and noisily thundered his way downstairs, hoping to get a better look from the door.

It seemed that his parents had beaten him to it, however, as they were both framed in the open doorway, blocking most of the view outside. As he approached, Charlie heard them muttering.

"It's such a shame..." his mum whispered.

A loud tut came from his dad; "Well, it was only a matter of time. Hippies like them never really belonged here anyway. Everyone says so."

"George, please! Don't repeat things like that in front of Charlie," hissed his mum.

They both turned to look at him. Any thoughts Charlie might have had of sneaking around back to get outside completely vanished in that moment.

"Charlie, you shouldn't be here," warned his dad.

Not needing to be told twice, Charlie turned to head back upstairs. He wasn't too bothered anyway. While it would have been nice to get a look at what was going on from the street, he could just as easily watch from his bedroom.

His parents were wise to this, however and he was stopped in his tracks.

"I meant go to the living room, young man. I will not have you observing the behaviour of riff-raff from your bedroom," his dad clarified. He pointed sternly in the direction of the living room door and Charlie slouched through.

Their living room was towards the back of the house. There was no view of the front street from it and Charlie could barely hear the muffled shouts from outside. He spent the rest of the evening sat in a sulk, not understanding why his parents were allowed to be nosy, but he wasn't. 

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><p>A few weeks went by, which felt like forever to someone as young as Charlie. Not that he was focused on how young he was today – on the contrary, he felt very grown-up. His parents had left him in the house on his own for the first time, while they went to another town to run some errands. He hadn't paid too much attention to why they were going, because that hardly seemed important in comparison to being home on his own.<p>

He opted to sit down in the living room, since he'd usually stay up in his bedroom when his parents were home. Today was a day where things needed to be done differently, so that he could savour how big he felt. So he sat on the sofa, reading Treasure Island and feeling very mature indeed.

His proud moment was cut short though, as the sound of movement from the garage reached his ears. Charlie froze where he was, listening hard to make sure that he hadn't just imagined it. After a few minutes, it became clear that he hadn't however and the noises continued.

As he slowly got to his feet and put the book down on the side, Charlie tried to stop himself from panicking. His parents both said that they thought there were rodents in the garage, which wasn't too surprising, given that they mostly used it to store food. Misthallery as a town didn't have much access for cars, so when Charlie's family had bought the house they had little use for the garage that came attached to it. Over the years it had come to house their fridge, freezer and other such junk that they didn't want cluttering up the house.

Charlie quietly approached the door that led through to the garage, reasoning with himself that it must just be mice trying to get at the potato sacks. If he could see them himself, then he'd be able to confirm to his parents that they were there and they'd probably be very proud of him. With this in mind, he tried to be as silent as possible as he pushed the door open and went inside.

What he found in there, was not a mouse.

An actual person was reaching across into their bread-bin and taking something out. They were being burgled! And Charlie was the only one in the house...!

He had to be brave, is what Charlie told himself, as he scrambled backwards and tripped over the step that led back through into the house. Some hero he was.

The noise was enough to attract the intruder's attention, as he spun around to glare at Charlie, face stuffed with bread.

It... it was Thomas...

That young lad who lived across the street before, um, before whatever it was that had happened with his parents that Charlie annoyingly didn't know the details of. Not that it mattered – since Thomas had broken into his home and was eating his food!

Thomas, however, recovered from the surprise much quicker than Charlie did. He slouched casually, bread bun held in his hand as if it had every reason to be here.

"You're their kid, right? Charlie, is it?" he asked.

In a sort of stunned awe, Charlie simply nodded, not taking his eyes off the alarming boy in front of him.

"Don't tell ya parents I'm eatin' ya food, will ya?" Thomas checked.

"W-w-why shouldn't I-I...?" stammered Charlie.

"Well, 'cause we're friends, ain't we?" replied Thomas. The stare he gave Charlie was not altogether cold, but it was piercing.

What a bizarre thing for someone to say. Who breaks into another person's house and then tries to get out of it by saying that they're friends?

And yet at the same time, Charlie can't help but think about it. He's never had a friend before, not a proper one. Some of the local kids would make time for him if he was out and about, but since Charlie spent most of his time shut up in his room reading, he'd never really played with anyone enough to think of them as a friend. But this boy wanted to be his friend. And Thomas was so cool – everyone knew that. If he could be friends with Thomas, then all the other kids would probably think that Charlie was amazing as well and that the two of them were like two loners sticking together, because no one else was good enough for them.

Charlie allowed himself to get carried away by these fanciful thoughts when he answered.

"Y-yeah, we're friends," he assured, "And I won't tell my parents."

"Good, 'cause I'm gonna need to keep comin' 'ere 'til Mum comes back," informed Thomas. He took another bite from the bread bun, now that he'd got Charlie's approval.

After watching him for a few moments, Charlie asked, "Um... what happened to your parents?"

It wasn't wrong if he was asking Thomas, after all. Even if his own parents said he wasn't to know about stuff like that. Thomas was his friend and friends know these things about friends, don't they?

Thomas chewed on his mouthful, clearly thinking over whether he should tell Charlie or not. By the time he swallowed, it seemed that he had deemed Charlie to be trustworthy enough to impart the story onto, however brief he was about it.

"Dad left, but I don't care," he answered, "If 'e don't wanna look aftah us then why should I be bothahed about 'im? But... well, mum can't afford to keep the 'ouse with dad not workin' in the factory now an'... an' the police thought she was ill... So they took 'er away until she gets bettah. But she'll come back."

This story was almost too much for Charlie. It felt like the beginning of some kind of drama from one of his mum's books that he wasn't supposed to read.

"But if your mum's not here then where are you staying?" pressed Charlie. He leaned in close, eager to hear more of Thomas's tale. Surely if his mum was taken away then he should have been as well. They wouldn't just leave a young boy in the streets.

"Not in the 'ouse, I can tell ya that. Wouldn't wanna risk bein' caught. An' I think they're gonna try an' sell it soon anyway," dismissed Thomas, "So I just sorta 'ang about places. Ya 'ouse is pretty easy to get into, so I've been eatin' ya food for weeks."

And Charlie's parents had thought it was mice...

"That's very brave of you," Charlie gushed, "I wish I could do something like that..."

"Just stick with me Charlie lad an' we'll both 'ave lotsa adventures," promised Thomas, "I'll start my own gang one day an' ya can be my best mate, all right?"

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><p>This was the start of a brief, but happy period of Charlie's life. Or at least, it had felt happy at the time. In years to come, Charlie would not look back quite so fondly on the hours he spent with his mysterious new house guest, sneaking him about under his parents nose and going out to play with him by the stream in North Ely.<p>

Thomas was a very secretive person and would hide at the first sight of anyone else, even when they were out playing. But all that did was make Charlie think he was even more mysterious. Clearly Thomas was on the run from someone and Charlie was his very important friend who was let in on his secret. Without Charlie's help, Thomas would be stuffed and they both knew it.

They would both continue to know that was a long time to come. Or at least, Charlie would...

Because one day, he was forced to realise that Thomas might not have thought as highly of him as Charlie did of Thomas.

It started out innocently enough, with Charlie heading out to wait for Thomas by the stream and his friend rushing over to him. Today, Thomas was all smiles, which was most unusual for him.

"Cor, got some great news for ya, Curly," Thomas proclaimed, eager to tell his story.

"Go on then!" ushered Charlie. A lot of their conversations began with Thomas talking about something exciting and Charlie egging him on. This sort of banter was becoming the norm for them.

"Well, I was right all along," Thomas confidently informed, "Mum's come back. She can't live in North Ely any more, but they gave 'er a 'ouse down in the market, where she can afford to pay the rent."

At first Charlie isn't sure what to make of this. His parents have always told him that the market was a particularly rough part of Misthallery, where kids like him should not go on their own. But Thomas was much tougher than most kids, so he could probably handle it. And besides, having a home anywhere at all had to be better than having no home.

"That's great," he whispered, since it would be uncomfortable if he didn't make any reply to something that Thomas obviously thought was this important.

"It is, ain't it? An' it means that I won't 'afta rob ya garage any more or sneak about at night," Thomas sighed, wistfully. Charlie couldn't blame him for being happy with the prospect of a proper bed.

All the same, Charlie suddenly became very aware of the fact that Thomas didn't need his help now that he had a home of his own.

"But... we'll still be friends, right? Even if you don't need to get food from my house?" checked Charlie.

"Yeah, 'course. Best pals forevah, you an' me," assured Thomas.

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><p>This had been a lie.<p>

In the days that followed Thomas's announcement of his mum's return to Misthallery, his visits to Charlie fizzled out. They didn't stop altogether, not at first. But each day he'd get later and later about turning up to their spot by the stream, while at the same time making excuses to leave sooner than he usually would. Some days he'd skip out going there entirely, until eventually he didn't turn up at all.

Four days without any sighting of his friend and Charlie decided that he should probably go look for Thomas himself.

Even if his parents told him not to go down to the market without them, Charlie knew that it couldn't hurt. They let him go out to play everyday without really knowing where he was going, so the market would be just one more place where they didn't know he'd been. Sneaking there would hardly be a bigger secret than all these weeks he's spent hiding Thomas under their noses.

This was what he reasoned with himself all the way out of the parts of Misthallery he was more familiar with and into the market. He kept his head down for the whole journey, even quite rudely shrugging off an elderly lady who offered him sweets. She seemed nice enough, but his dad did say that he should never talk to strangers.

So he made his way around the narrow streets of the market, looking for any sign of his missing companion. It wasn't easy, because the market was much bigger than Charlie had expected and he was very conscious of getting lost if he ventured too far.

Eventually, he came across a small place near some crossroads, where two boys were stood talking near a large manhole. One of them was a grumpy-looking lad in scruffy brown clothes and the other was... was Thomas.

Only he looked different from how Charlie had ever seen him before. Not so much in terms of appearance, but in how he held himself. He looked much more relaxed talking to this other person than Charlie had ever seen him before. Thomas had always radiated confidence, but something about his expression here made him feel more so. As if he knew everything about these streets and they were merely an extension of him. Which couldn't be true, because he'd only been there for a little while.

It also couldn't be true, because Charlie managed to walk right the way up to them without being noticed.

"Um, h-hello..." he offered, as he drew level with them.

They both glanced over at him with a look of indifference. Much to Charlie's dismay, he could tell from Thomas's face that it had taken him a few moments to recognise Charlie. But that can't be right, given that it had only been four days since they'd last seen each other. Maybe... maybe he just didn't expect to see Charlie in a place like this. That would make much more sense.

"Yeah?" prompted the boy Charlie didn't know.

"I w-was wondering if I could t-talk... You see, I came here to f-find him..." stuttered Charlie. He pointed weakly in the direction of Thomas.

This time, Thomas gave him a glare that was indeed as cold as it was piercing.

"I don't wanna to talk to ya."

"But..."

"Did ya not 'ear me? I don't wanna talk to ya."

"Why not!" shot Charlie, trying his best not to cry, "You wanted to talk to me all the time before! Do you not want to be my friend any more?"

"Is this kid bothering you, Crow?" the scruffy lad asked Thomas.

"Nah, Roddy. Just give us a sec, will ya?" dismissed Thomas, waving him off.

The boy who was apparently called Roddy gave a heavy shrug. He walked away and Charlie got the feeling that he knew something was very off here, but dealing with it would be too much of a hassle for him.

Once Roddy was out of earshot, Thomas hissed, "Why did ya come 'ere?"

"Because... w-we're friends and you stopped turning up to visit me. I was worried about you!" squeaked Charlie.

Thomas seemed to mull this over for a few moments, not sure how to address the matter. Some how, Charlie had guessed at what was coming though, so he wasn't too surprised by what Thomas said next.

"Look, we 'ad a good time up in North Ely, but that's done now. I live 'ere in the market an' ya can't be comin' all the way down 'ere to see me," he reasoned, "So maybe ya should just 'ead back 'ome an' play with the other kids that way. Like that Finch. Or Sean an' 'is little friend, Tony."

"I don't want to be friends with them! They're not cool like you are, Thomas!" Charlie wailed.

"Don't call me Thomas!" snapped Thom- ...not-Thomas.

"But that's your name, isn't it?" demanded Charlie, "That's what you always let me call you when we were playing by the stream and when I let you come into my house!"

"An' it ain't my name now. Those days are gone an' that Thomas is gone, too," confirmed not-Thomas, "Look... Curly, I tried to be nice by goin' up there for a little while, but it's just too much 'assle now. We both 'ad a laugh, but now we both need to be movin' on with friends that are more up our alley."

Part of Charlie wanted to beg that he was still good enough to be Thomas's friend or Crow's friend or whoever's friend he needed to be to stay with this boy. He could be just as fun to be around as this grumpy Roddy boy apparently was and he'd do anything to prove it.

...But he knew that wouldn't be the right thing to do.

Because no matter how cool this boy who'd pretended to be his friend might be, he was not a nice person. He had used Charlie and thrown him aside when that use had run out. And Charlie knew there was no point in trying to be friends with someone who was like that.

"You're right..." he muttered.

"There's a good 'un. Now ya bettah 'ead off 'ome before it gets dark an' ya folks worry. The street 'ere ain't nice to be about once the market stalls shut," concluded Thomas – no, concluded Crow.

"I can tell," Charlie seethed.

With that he turned and stormed away. Behind him he heard a couple of steps on the cobbles, it seemed that Crow had considered going after him, but stopped himself. Charlie was glad that he didn't follow. He didn't think that he had any words left in him to deal with this awful person.

And so Charlie went home, shut himself in his room and blocked out the anger and sadness by reading his comics. Just as he had done before he met Thomas and would continue to do for years after the Black Ravens dominated the market streets of Misthallery.

On that day, Charlie had learned that friends were not worth his time having.


End file.
